I'm Caught Up and I'm Barely Breathing
by DFaraday
Summary: Sawyer doesn't believe in fate, and neither does Juliet -- but maybe fate has other ideas for them. Set as if the bomb had reset things before 2004, pretty AU. Sawyer/Juliet.
1. I'm Caught Up and Barely Breathing

_AN: Wow, I really should finish Storm before I start this, but I really enjoyed writing it so I'm just gonna put it up anyway. It's Sawyer/Juliet and it's based on if the bomb had reset things before 2004, and this piece is based in what probably would have been 1999 or 2000. It can be a multi-chapter, if you all want…_

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"Yeah, Gordy, I got it okay? I'll be there as soon as I can, I'm just gettin' a cab now!" Sawyer tells his partner irately, hitting the end call button on his phone before the man on the other end can reply. One day soon he's gonna get real bored of this con business, what with everything with Cassidy and then the time he'd spent stuck in jail. He'd conned his way outta there too, the same way he conned his way out of everything, but the game's getting old and he's gonna have to get out sometime soon.

He tries to push the fact that he's told himself that after every failed con to the back of his mind.

He spots a cab in the distance and quickly hails it down, but as the car pulls up a blonde woman jumps in front of him, diving towards the car.

"Well excuse me, sister!" He says, his voice full of irritation, and she turns towards him, one hand on the car door. As her piercing blue eyes meet his he feels something stir somewhere deep inside him, an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu hitting him like a wave of nausea and for a second he forgets to breathe. There's something eerily familiar about the calm of her stare and he noticed that her eyes are glassy, rimmed with red and he realizes that she's been crying.

"Please," She says quietly, her face remaining expressionless. "Please, I _need_ to get this cab." The odd twisting sensation still in his stomach, Sawyer takes a step back, holding his hands up in defeat.

"Fine, take it." He concedes, and she gives him a tiny grateful smile and gets into the cab. "You owe me one, blondie!" He shouts as the door slams, and as the car speeds off he's left wondering where that hell his outburst came from; he's never exactly gonna see her again, right?

Weeks later, he muses that that it depends; does it count as seeing someone again if its only in your dreams?

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He's half running down the sidewalk next time it happens, desperately trying to remember the name of the girl he's supposed to be meeting in a bar a couple of blocks over. Kim? Kathy? Katie? He'd already gone out with her twice, and he knows that his part of the oh-so charming Sawyer wouldn't forget her name on the third date, so any slip ups and he can kiss the twenty five grand they've been hoping for goodbye.

Completely lost in his thoughts he doesn't even look up as he rounds a corner and collides heavily with someone walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey, watch it!" He says angrily, groaning as he notices the large coffee stain on his shirtsleeve.

"Why don't _you_ watch it, arsehole?" The woman he's collided with mutters, trying to wipe the worst of the coffee off of her own clothes and bending down to pick up her spilt drink. When she speaks his stomach twists in a too-familiar sensation, that weird feeling of déjà vu hitting him all over again, the breath he was taking catching in his throat and he knows it's her before he even sees the blonde hair and blue eyes. As she looks up at him her eyes widen slightly in recognition and she looks a little disbelieving – not surprising, he thinks, as they're in the other side of town to last time they'd come across each other several months ago. It only takes a second for her expression to return to one of calm, that same indifferent smile she'd worn last time that seems so damn familiar on her face.

"You spilled my coffee." She says, and Sawyer couldn't help but laugh a little as she states the obvious.

"Well damn, you know what? I hadn't even noticed!" He replies sarcastically, holding the arm with the stain on it out in front of her.

"You wanna do something about it?" She asks, and Sawyer blinks in surprise before saying anything.

"You know what, Blondie? Last time we met I seem to remember that you stole my cab, so how 'bout we call it even?" She smirks, laughing a little.

"Fine then. We're even."

And with that she's gone again, a blur of blonde in the crowded sidewalk.

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He walks into the bar and sat down heavily, desperately needing a drink. It's been just over a week since he'd last run into Blondie – he still doesn't know her name, but Blondie seems to fit her pretty well and he doesn't have anything better to call her – and he can't get her out of his head. Things hadn't worked out with the last girl Gordy had set him up with it; it had been Kelly, in the end, and even Gordy seems to sense that he's too preoccupied to try anything – or anyone – else at the moment.

"What can I get'cha?" The bartender asks, snapping Sawyer from his reverie.

"Beer." He replies monosyllabically, and the man nodds and addresses the figure a few seats down as he pulls out a glass.

"Anything else I can get you, ma'am?"

"No, thank you." The hairs on the back of Sawyer's neck stand on end and he turns to look at the person sitting a few seats away from him.

"Well son of a bitch!" He crows in disbelief, slipping off his stool and taking the one next to her. "You been followin' me, Blondie?"

"Only in your dreams." She replies serenely, calmly taking a sip of her drink with a flash of what seemed like amusement showing in her blue eyes. Sawyer blinks, halting for a moment – _if only she knew_ – before managing to recover.

"Come on then, Little Miss Sunshine. Why not make this third time lucky and let me buy you a drink?" He suggests, quickly falling back into the familiar pattern he's perfected after far too many years of playing Sawyer. She raises an eyebrow at him before raising her almost full glass up a few centimeters off the table, jiggling it slightly in her hand.

"I think I'm good with this one, thanks." She says, that unreadable smile on her face, the one that's plagued his dreams for too often for him not to recognize it by now. For a second their eyes meet and the clenching feeling in his stomach returns, like someone's wound chains around his stomach and is pulling them tight.

Not sure what he should do but knowing that should do something, he grabs the drink from her hand and downs it in four long gulps, wiping the liquid from around his mouth as he sets the glass down on the bar top forcefully. Her eyes are wide and eyebrows have shot up her forehead, and he watches triumphantly as she tries to keep a straight face, her lip quivering as she tries to keep her mouth set in a straight line. After a moment a splutter of laughter escapes and she covers her mouth with her hand to try and hold her laughter in. It takes her half a minute to compose herself, and then she picks up her empty glass, considering it, before looking back at him.

"So you owe me now, is that?" She asks skeptically, and Sawyer grins, taking a sip of his own drink.

"What can I get'cha then, Blondie?" He says as way of reply, and she looks at him seriously for a moment, her eyes serious and her gaze unflinching. His grin falters as she lets her eyes drop and shakes her head a little, standing up and taking her jacket from the stool next to her.

"Actually, you just did me a favour." She corrects him, turning back to him as she shrugs on the jacket, "I needed to leave anyway – you just helped me along."

"Aw, c'mon Blondie. One drink!" He pleads, wondering to himself why he's so interested in this woman. This clingy mess is what he reduces women to, definitely not the other way round. "Look, I promise, just one. No strings attached; I really ain't the strings attached guy." He says mock conspiratorially, trying his best not to sound desperate. She tilts her head a little, thinking for a moment.

"I tell you what," She says quietly, stepping a little closer to him. "I'll call it a raincheck – if I ever see you around again, I'll let you buy me that drink." She says with a smirk before turning on her heel and heading for the door.

"You gotta at least gimme your name!" He calls after her, but it's too late; the door swings shut after her and he's left alone in the empty bar.

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**_TBC?_**

_Review if you want more…_


	2. Always Happens Like That

_AN: Thank you all for the incredible reviews! Hope you enjoy this chapter – if you keep reviewing I'll keep it coming._

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"Can I get a goddamn coffee already?" He snarls at the acne-ridden teen behind the counter, drumming his fingers impatiently on the wooden counter top. The boy shrinks back a little, nodding hastily, and tapping a few keys on his cash register, before pausing and looking up at Sawyer fearfully.

"Which coffee would you like, Sir?" He asks, voice trembling a little as he sees Sawyer's face twist into a frown.

"I just want a coffee, is that so damn hard?"

The boy glances between Sawyer and the register nervously before speaking again, his voice a little higher than before.

"No sir, it's just that we do lots of different coffees, we have—"

"Just give me a coffee, kid, none of this fluffy crap." Sawyer replies with an irritated sigh; he usually hates this posh coffee places anyway, but the confrontation he's just had with Gordy has him in an even worse mood than normal. He's a free man, at last, but he's not sure he likes it. Conning isn't something to be done on your own, and he's only just wrapping his head around the fact that his near future may actually have to contain a job.

"That'll be $2.75 then, Sir." Sawyer's mouth drops open slightly.

"$2.70-_what_? Just how many coffees ya tryin' to shaft me with there, kid?" By now the teen looks like he's about to break down, so Sawyer finally takes pity and slides a note across the table. Once he gets his change back the boy runs off, passing on his order to the other workers behind the counter. He quickly comes back to the counter, glancing round Sawyer to the queue behind him.

"Can I help?" He calls, and Sawyer throws his hands up in despair.

"How hard is it to get a cup of coffee? I mean for fu—"

"You have to go down there to get your drink." A quietly amused voice says from behind him, and he turns to see the blonde woman from the bar standing behind him.

"My my," Sawyer remarks, pushing a hand into his jean pocket. "It seems you _have_ been following me, Blondie." She rolls her eyes, smiling slightly, just the faintest twitch of the corners of her mouth.

"What have I got to do to get a new nickname?" She asks, crossing her arms.

"Tell me your name." He offers, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Buy me a coffee." She challenges playfully. Sawyer knows a good deal when he hears one and nods slowly, pulling his wallet from his back pocket once more.

"Alrighty then – _Blondie_. Although—" He glances over at the boy behind the counter who looks a dear caught in the headlights when he catches Sawyer's eye—"You may have to do the orderin'; I'm not sure Zit Cream over there is gonna be all too pleased to see me." He adds quietly, letting the words slip out of the side of his lips and holding his hand over his mouth theatrically. She rolls her eyes again, reaching out to grab his wallet, her fingers not quite grasping it as Sawyer yanks it out of reach at the last second.

"Nuh-uh, _Blondie_," He admonishes, wagging a finger reproachfully. "You gotta give it up first."

She smiles gently, brushing a blonde strand from her face.

"Juliet." She answers, and her name sends a funny feeling through his body, a jerk from behind his navel that knocks the breath from him.

"Ju – Juliet?" He stutters back, and she nods, looking a little confused.

"Yeah, Juliet." She tips her head to the side a little, questioningly, "So, do I get to know yours?" He pauses for a second. This is an important moment, and in a split second he makes a decision that he wonders if he'll regret later.

"James."

The corners of her eyes crinkle up slightly in puzzlement, a look of recognition flashing through her blue eyes for half a second.

"James." She repeats as if testing the name out – he doesn't know what _she_ thinks, but he likes the way it sounds when she says it – and smiles at him, holding her hand out to him expectantly. "Are you gonna get me that coffee now?"

He chuckles, gesturing to the counter.

"Go ahead, _Blondie_."

She frowns and her mouth opens to speak, cut off by his shrug and teasing smile. "I didn't say I'd stop now did I?"

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"So then, Miss Blonde-Juliet," He starts, leaning back against the counter as they wait for their drinks, "You wanna tell me anythin' else besides your name?"

"You wanna tell me anything?" She counters and he lets out a bark of laughter, resting his elbows on the wooden counter top.

"Getting' a little defensive, are we?" She shakes her head, laughing gently.

"Fine. What do you want to know?" He shrugs.

"Anythin'."

"Fine. I—" A ringing from her purse interrupts her, and she looks at him apologetically as she pulls her cell phone out. She looks at the name on the screen and bites her lip, raising the phone to her ear. "I need to take this." She says as she hits a button on the phone.

"Rachel? What's wrong?" She asks quietly into the phone, turning away from him. "Okay, okay, calm down, Sweetie, please." She pleads, switching the phone to her other ear and cradling it there. Sawyer sees her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. "Do you want me to come over?" She practically whispers, running a hand through her long hair. "I'll be there soon." She drops the phone to her side, turning back to him.

"You gotta run?" He asks, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

"I'm sorry, really, I am. But… I have to go."

"Hey, don't worry 'bout it Blondie. We'll call it a rain check of a rain check, okay?"

She looks around, grabbing a napkin from the counter and pulling a pen from the depths of her bag. After scribbling a number down she thrusts the napkin into his hand, barely passing it to him before turning to the door.

He looks down at the scrawl of digits for a second, a smile creeping across his face.

"Wait!" He looks up, but she's already gone – a situation that already feels too familiar for his liking.

"Two coffees!" Someone behind the counter shouts, and he turns picks up his drink, considering for a moment before sweeping the second, unwanted cup into the trash next to him. The napkin still held tightly in his hand he steps out onto the sidewalk, taking a deep breath and allowing the first genuine grin in far too long cross his lips.

Without warning a rumble of thunder sweeps over head and rain pours from the sky, soaking the napkin and blurring the black digits. He lets out a howl of despair and scrabbles to bury the paper in his pocket, but the damage is already done.

He's lost her.

**TBC?**

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_AN: If you like it, review!_


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